Replay
by JinxyBear
Summary: A miserable Arthur Kirkland has had a miserable day. A day that he didn't want to repeat, however that is exactly what happened. He is stuck living the same day over and over again, and must figure out the reason why the universe has decided to be so cruel, lest he be stuck living this day forever. USUK


"Good morning, America! Boy how I wish I was on that show instead of this one. Anyway, it's about 50 degrees here in Brunswick, so bundle up because it's _cold_ out there!"

Arthur hit the snooze button on the alarm clock, which for whatever reason, played boring American radio to wake him up.

6:00 a.m. He only had an hour before the English Literature conference at this hotel started, so he forced himself awake and was later helped out by his shower, whose water felt like it came directly from the Artic.

After deeming himself presentable to the public, he slipped out the door and made his way to the lobby, where he seated himself on a small couch that had many holes in the fabric.

"Good morning, Arthur!" A voice boomed from behind the concierge desk. "Did you sleep well?"

Arthur smiled, "Yes, very well. Thank you."

The concierge clapped his hands together, "Good! It's important to get a lot of sleep. I didn't sleep so well though. My brother kept me up all night, but I can't remember what he was talking about. He didn't sound too happy... I wonder what was wrong. If you see him, you should ask him for me!"

Arthur kept himself from pointing out that he didn't even know who this man's brother was, and simply nodded.

He checked his watch. 6:45. He decided to escape the conversation that the concierge opened his mouth to start and entered the conference room early.

* * *

Arthur sighed, blocking out the drawls of the speaker on the stage and finishing the thirtieth game of tic-tac-to that he played with himself on his napkin. He set down his pen, hunched over the table and rested his head in his hands, though he couldn't stay in that position for long since his back was still sore from the long flight over to the States. He supposed that he should probably at least _try_ to appear like the he was paying attention, especially considering that it was a conference on one of his favorite subjects - literature - but by god, there just _had_ to be a more interesting way of discussing Lord of the Flies. When you're discussing a book about children stranded on a deserted island killing each other for sport, one would think that it wouldn't be too difficult, but somehow, this man found a way.

"And so it may be that perhaps this book goes down in history as one of the most taught books in English Literature classes because-" Arthur didn't care to find out why and blocked the speaker out again. Maybe if he wasn't forced to attend this conference because of his job, he might have enjoyed it.

Arthur checked his watch. 11:50… this speech was supposed to have ended an hour ago. If he stayed there any longer he was going to be late for his date. He pushed his chair back as quietly as possible, trying not to attract the attention of too many people. In doing so, however, he failed to realize that he was not in fact, _pushing_ the chair backwards, but _tilting_ it backwards. He crashed to the floor and bumped the table with his knee in the process, knocking over his glass of wine which spilled over the side of the table and soaked his brand new $100 dollar white dress shirt.

Arthur's face turned tomato red in half a second. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that somehow when he opened them again he would have found himself transported anywhere but here.

Deadly silence followed as people gawked at him. Even the speaker had stopped talking to stare. A young man with blonde hair that Arthur thought was way too long hurried over with a napkin, dabbing at the wine stain and involuntarily making it bigger. "Are you okay?" His voice shook with concern as he used his free hand to squeeze the arm Arthur had tried to catch himself with to check for broken bones.

Arthur waved his hand, "I'm fine." But the young man didn't stop tending to him until he shouted, "I said, I'm fine!" The boy jumped back, throwing an arm in front of his face in self-defense. Arthur didn't realize why he was so scared until he noticed his own hand balled into a fist, arm pulled back looking like it was ready to strike, though that was definitely not Arthur's intent.

_Damn... Poor boy. I really didn't mean to yell like that__._ Arthur thought, but he was too embarrassed to apologize.

He pushed himself onto his feet but almost fell down again since his knees were trembling so hard. The boy with long hair held his arms out ready to catch him, but a second later Arthur bolted out of the room. He darted past the concierge who beamed at the sight of him, "Vee~! How was the-" Arthur didn't even look in his direction as he slammed open the front door of the hotel, "conference…"

He kicked the sidewalk with the stub of his shoe. How could he be so stupid and embarrass himself in front of all those people? He pinched the bridge of his nose and cringed at the thought of what he just did. After a few deep breaths and feeling the flush in his face go away, he checked his watch. 11:55. Only five minutes until he was supposed to meet his date at that fancy French restaurant, which by the way, shouldn't even be in a rundown old-fashioned town like Brunswick.

Arthur sprinted down the street, weaving in and out of the crowd until he came by Le Petite France, which was wedged between a shabby gas station with only one pump and a dirty-looking local burger joint where a group of teens where hollering at the top of their lungs, stuffing their faces with hamburgers as large as their heads. He scrunched up his face in disgust as he stepped into Le Petite France, where he at least expected the customers to eat like civilized people.

The restaurant was colored with burgundy walls, burgundy tablecloths, and waiters wearing burgundy suits. No other colors seemed to be present but burgundy, much to Arthur's annoyance.

A man with a badge reading "Jean" bowed to the Englishman, "Bonjour monsieur, could I-" As he straightened back up, his eyes lingered on the giant red stain on Arthur's shirt. Arthur crossed his arms over chest in an attempt to cover it up, but the man just rolled his eyes and smirked. "Can I have your name, monsieur?"

"Kirkland." Arthur grunted. Jean led him to the back of the restaurant, and seated him at a booth where Francis was already waiting.

As he sat down, Francis grabbed his hand and leaned in over the table to peck Arthur's cheek, but Arthur shoved him away. "Ah, you haven't changed a bit since high school, Rosbif. Shy as ever."

"I am not shy! I'm just not as horrendously flamboyant as you are."

Francis snorted, but quickly recovered his charming air, "Seeing as we are on a date, it would be best if we refrained from fighting, non?"

Arthur scowled before giving in and nodding his agreement. He had no idea how Francis had talked him into such a stupid venture as date. He was probably drunk as they made arrangements.

"Mon dieu! What happened to your shirt?" Francis gasped, dramatically clutching his chest.

Arthur waved it off, "Some clumsy fool just accidentally spilled his wine on me while I was at that conference I was telling you about earlier. It's no big deal. I was going to buy a new shirt anyway."

Francis raised his eyebrow but didn't question it. "So that literature conference… you went because your boss wanted you to write an article about it?" Arthur nodded. "And you are stuck merely writing _about _books instead of writing them yourself." Arthur grimaced but bit his tongue to prevent himself from making a crude remark. He was determined to make his time here pleasant. "I take it that none of the manuscripts you had sent out last year were accepted." Arthur studied the menu to distract himself. "So you gave up and decided to work at a boring job that you hate instead."

"I didn't give up you imbecile! I'm just taking a break!" Arthur slammed his fists on the table. He knew that coming here would be a bad idea. Since when had either of them been able to stand each other?

"And how long is this break going to last, hmm?"

Jean came to the table with a notepad in hand, "Can I get you some drinks?"

Arthur stood up and straightened out his collar, "Please excuse me." And with that he squeezed himself past the waiter and started for the exit.

"Wait!" Francis called, almost knocking the waiter on his derrière in his attempt to reach Arthur, who already had his hand on the door handle. Francis grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, only to be greeted with a menacing glare. "I didn't mean to say those things to _upset_ you, I just wanted to-"

Arthur swatted at Francis who let him go because the bastard was aiming for his beautiful face. "It doesn't matter. This lunch was a stupid idea anyway. Have a good life, Francis."

As Arthur stomped through the door, Francis was left in the restaurant replaying the situation over and over again in his head, trying to find a way he could have prevented this outcome from happening. He wished very much that he could have a do-over.

Out on the narrow sidewalk blocking Arthur's way back to his hotel were the group of teens from the burger joint, playfully shoving each other and laughing like drunkards. Arthur was about to march over to them and demand that they move aside and let him through until his phone started ringing.

The caller ID was restricted. _If that frog thinks that I will pick up because his ID isn't showing then he's in for a rude awakening._ But on the last ring Arthur panicked and flipped open his phone, realizing that someone from work could be calling, though he couldn't imagine why. "Hello?"

"Yo! Arthur! It's James."

Arthur held the phone away from his mouth as he moaned. "Hello, James."

"Listen, I know it kind of sucks that I have to tell you this while you're out of town for us but…"

James went silent as he tried to think of a way to let the guy down easy. "Yes?" Arthur asked.

"We changed our minds about that article we assigned you. We'll refund your airfare and hotel expenses. Sorry about that."

Annoyed that he had to fly all the way out to America for this stupid article only to have it cancelled, Arthur didn't even try to hide the aggravation in his voice, "And why the sudden change of mind? You were all over this assignment a week ago."

James sighed, "Listen… you know how poorly this magazine is doing… no one seems to be buying it anymore." Arthur waited for James to get to the point. "And since we're losing money now, we had to make some cuts." He listened intently, growing impatient. "And I'm afraid that some people have to be… umm… let go."

"You're firing me." Arthur realized.

"I'm really sorry, buddy." James tried to say as gently as he could, but had apparently failed.

"Don't call me 'buddy' like that!" Before James could apologize, Arthur snapped his phone shut.

_Great. I can't wait to see how much worse this day can get._ But since he actually wanted to avoid this as much as possible, he decided to head back to his hotel and read one of the many books he had brought with him. Reading always seemed to keep him relatively happy. However, his path back to the hotel was still blocked by those rowdy teenagers. He willed his legs to start marching but he stood there like a statue, not sure why exactly he was too nervous to confront the group. He leaned against the wall of the burger joint and pretended to be texting while he waited for the teens to disperse, though he couldn't help but look up from his phone and listen in to their conversation.

"I can't believe you have to go already, momma's boy!" One of the kids in the group teasingly smacked a blonde boy with an obnoxious cowlick that Arthur wanted to gel down.

"My name's not 'momma's boy', you jerk, it's Alfred."

"Whatever, dude. See you later." 'Alfred' laughed and waved to the rest of the group who were already making their way back into the burger joint.

Arthur could finally make his way back to the hotel without being trampled on and as he started walking he couldn't help but look back at that boy named Alfred, who was crossing the street, totally oblivious to…

"HEY YOU, IDIOT!" Arthur waved frantically in Alfred's direction. Alfred whirled around, confused as to whether he was the one being yelled at or not when he was suddenly yanked back out of the road by the back of his shirt, falling hard onto the sidewalk.

Dazed, Alfred whipped his head around trying to figure out what happened. The first thing he noticed was a car that was zooming down the road at totally unsafe speeds, considering how many pedestrians were around_. That dude could totally run someone over. He should probably slow down._ Alfred thought.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU DOING?!"

Alfred threw up his hands in defense, scrambling to his feet and backing away from the man standing behind him, "Dude, what are you talking about?"

"ARE YOU BLIND?! YOU WALKED RIGHT OUT IN FRONT OF THAT CAR! IF I HADN'T PULLED YOU AWAY IN TIME YOU WOULD BE DEAD!"

Alfred scoffed, "I was gonna be fine! You didn't need to go and rescue me."

"Like hell I didn't! Ugh… stupid American." Arthur muttered under his breath.

"No need to get so worked up." Alfred laughed when he saw the man's face burn red with anger. Arthur was still patiently waiting for a 'thank you', though he clearly wasn't going to get one.

"Whatever." The nonchalance this kid had about almost dying was getting on his nerves, so Arthur started walking away. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that Alfred didn't do anything else that could get him killed but the git just stood in the same spot he left him in, cracking a crooked smile as he watched his rescuer leave. Arthur blushed, "Well go on then. Enjoy the life I have just preserved for you."

He shooed at him but Alfred ran up to him and swung his arm around him. "I haven't seen you around here. Are you a tourist? We don't really get a lot of those. There's nothing much to tour."

Arthur brushed off his arm and started toward the hotel as Alfred walked alongside him, "There's a conference at the Brunswick hotel that I had to attend for my job."

Alfred beamed, "I know where that is! My friend Feliciano works there! Have you seen him? He has like, reddish-brown hair, an Italian accent, and I forget what his job actually is but-"

"Yes, I've seen him." Arthur cut off, picking up his pace in hopes of losing Alfred.

"Sweet! Oh hey, have you been to the Obese Burger restaurant?" Alfred then went on a tangent about hamburgers that Arthur didn't care to listen to, and decided to ignore the kid until he made it safely to the hotel, where he could find peace and quiet in his room.

Occasionally Arthur snuck a glance at Alfred. His eyes sparkled as he spoke and never once did he stop smiling. Had it been any other day, Arthur might have found it endearing, but today no one was allowed to be happy while he was miserable.

"-and that's my theory on the secret recipe for Obese Burgers! I can't wait to try it out and see if I'm right!"

"That's very interesting, lad," Arthur said dryly as he entered the hotel lobby, not expecting Alfred to follow him inside, "but I'm afraid that we're already here so I'll have to say goodbye."

"Aww…" Alfred pouted, "Are you doing anything today?"

Arthur, not realizing what Alfred was getting at, answered, "No, I think I'm just going to read for the rest of the day. Relax, and whatnot."

Alfred dragged Arthur's hand and started pulling him back toward the door they had just entered, "Great! Then we can go grab a burger together!"

Arthur snatched his hand away, "Weren't you listening to me? I said I was going to read. In my hotel room. _Alone._"

"Oh…" Alfred said, a hurt look on his face. But Arthur didn't care. He was entitled to his privacy after all, and this spoiled brat didn't have the right to butt into his plans when his company was clearly unwanted.

He calmly walked to the elevators, and when he stepped inside of one he pushed the 'close door' button as fast as he could, not wanting to watch Alfred stare longingly at him.

After he arrived at his floor and entered his room, he flopped onto his bed, trying his hardest not to think about how he had ruined a shirt he only owned for two days, how awkward the next conversation with Francis would be if they even ever spoke to each other again, how he was supposed to pay his bills now that he didn't have a job, or how upset Alfred looked when he blew him off.

He supposed that he did feel a little bad about that. After all, Alfred was just trying to be friendly, even if his idea of 'friendly' was really annoying. He considered hunting him down and taking up his offer after he had a chance to cool off and lose himself in a good book for a while. Besides, he would have to eat at some point, and maybe a burger wouldn't be such a bad idea, since he never had one before.

He grabbed _A Christmas Carol_ off of the night stand and flipped it open to the page that he left off on. He had only read one chapter before he heard someone knocking on his door.

When he opened the door, Alfred stood before him holding up a take-out bag that said 'Obese Burger'. He shoved the bag into Arthur's hands and barged into his room. "I thought that if you didn't want to actually _go_ to the restaurant, I could bring the restaurant to _you._" Arthur just stood there dumbfounded and at a loss for words. "And then when you're done reading and relaxing or whatever, I could show you around town. Not that there's much to see around here, but it might be fun. So I'll just take a seat right here and wait for you to-"

Arthur used all of his strength to keep from blowing up. "Listen, I appreciate you doing this for me, but I really would just like to be alone for a while. I didn't exactly have the best day."

Confused, Alfred cocked his head to the side. "I don't understand. If you're having a bad day, then why would you want to be alone?"

Not willing to have a lengthy conversation so that Alfred could stall to stay with him a little longer, Arthur said the first thing that came to his mind that he thought would shut him up. "It's not necessarily that I want to be alone, it's that I don't want to spend my time with the likes of _you._"

Arthur regretted it the second he said it. He opened his mouth to apologize and explain himself but Alfred held up a hand to stop him, tears welling up in his eyes. "Nah, it's fine I understand. This wouldn't be the first time that this has happened."

Before Arthur could muster the courage to ask him what he meant, the boy had left. He plopped onto his bed and ran his fingers through his hair, not totally grasping what had just happened.

_This day really can't get any worse, because I won't let it. I am staying in here until the morning when I can finally go home._

A few hours went by and Arthur's stomach felt like it was on fire. He glanced at the Obese Burger bag that he set down on the night stand and hesitantly dug into it, pulling out a humungous burger whose grease dripped down Arthur's arms. It felt wrong to eat the burger since Alfred had gotten it for him and he had unfairly scolded the kid for it, but he hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch and now dinner was approaching.

After taking his time to savor the (delicious, though he would never admit it) food, Arthur buried himself under the covers and closed his eyes. He replayed the entire day over again in his head, thinking about how many different ways he could have responded to his given situations. He wondered if the day would have turned out better or worse if he did things differently.

He decided to go to bed early instead of letting himself think too much, lest he dive into depression. He switched off the lights and crawled into bed, looking forward to the flight back home the next day. He dreamed sweet dreams of London until the alarm clock so rudely awoke him with its blasted American radio.

"Good morning, America! Boy how I wish I was on that show instead of this one. Anyway, it's about 50 degrees here in Brunswick, so bundle up because it's _cold_ out there!"


End file.
